Domestic Secrets

by Rosalind Noonan

  There. Patting her face dry with the fluffy white towel, she peered into the mirror and tried a slight smile. There it was; her glow was back again. A sort of bronze sheen of her skin that contrasted so beautifully with the white of her teeth and eyes, and complimented her auburn eyes and hair. No Visine needed today. She had her mojo back.

  She flung open the bathroom door and came face-to-face with a very scary, angry young woman. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  “Since when do you monitor my phone calls?” Ariel kept her voice low, knowing there was power in restraint. “I’m the adult here, and when two people end a relationship, there tend to be loose ends that need to be sorted out.” But you wouldn’t know that, since you’re still an uptight virgin, she thought, though she kept the barb to herself. Cassie’s bitchy armor kept men and some women at bay, but Ariel knew it was all about insecurity. One of these days, Cassie would relax enough to be in a relationship. Until then, the world would have to put up with her castigating comments.

  “You promised, Mom, and I’m holding you to it. The police were here because of him. You guys had to leave the house.” Cassie’s face was a pale portrait of propriety as she pointed toward the kids in the family room. “You can’t put them through that again.”

  “It’s not going to happen again. Don’t you worry.” Ariel patted Cassie’s shoulder and stepped around her to get back to her novel. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like the credit card we were supposed to use for Remy’s prom gown?”

  “What are you talking about?” Ariel asked as she found her empty purple mug and brought it to the coffeemaker.

  “The credit card was declined at the dress shop.”

  “It shouldn’t be. I paid that bill.” Ariel poured half a cup and palmed her mug, soaking up warmth as she tried to recollect what last month’s bill had looked like. “I think I paid it. Wait . . . I know I did.” She put down the mug, yanked out a drawer, and fished through a heap of bills, coupons, and junk mail.

  Cassie drew closer, took one look in the drawer, and let out a huff of disgust. “Are you kidding me? That’s your billing system, a mound of crap in the kitchen drawer? You have got to start getting organized and show some responsibility. You’re the mother of four; why don’t you start acting like that for a change?”

  Little Miss Cassie Know-it-all was beginning to piss Ariel off. Ariel found the Visa bill tucked under a recipe for shrimp stir-fry. “Here it is.” She slid it out and pushed the drawer shut with her hip. Even without reading glasses she could make out her note at the top. “Two hundred dollars, paid.” She waved it at Cassie. “See? I didn’t screw up. Their computers must have blipped out.”

  Still skeptical, Cassie took the bill and stared at it as she sipped coffee.

  See? Ariel wanted to say. Your mother is not a total idiot. Fortunately, her attention was diverted by a knock on the family room’s sliding glass door, where Rachel stood, holding up a paper sack and pointing to the Bagel Dell logo.

  “Rachel’s here.” Trevor was already at the door, tugging the slider to the side. “Are those for us?” he asked.

  “Yup. I hit the bagel shop after Mass. Plus I got three kinds of cream cheese and fruit salad.” Rachel was already beginning to unload the two bags on the table that separated the kitchen from the family room, but then she didn’t need an invitation to come in. Rachel was like family; no, better than family. She was family without the dysfunctional hang-ups.

  “Bagels! Yay!” Maisy popped up and went over to hug Rachel. “Thank you very much,” she said, resting her head against Rachel’s chest.

  “You are very welcome.” Rachel beamed a winning smile, looking cute, despite her getup, which was dowdy enough to compete with Cassie’s: zebra-striped leggings, a tent of a T-shirt, and a quilted green vest. Half elf, half wild animal. Obviously, she’d been out running and hadn’t taken the time to change clothes. Well, thank God her hair looked fabulous. The gold highlights gave her brown hair a subtle sparkle and her side bangs feathered back to her ponytail in a flattering angle. At least Rach hadn’t turned into a total suburban ruin.

  Ariel brought over some forks, knives, plates, and bowls, as everyone came to the table to grab for food. Dishing chunks of melon, pineapple, and orange into a bowl, Ariel figured she’d start with the fruit and maybe take half a bagel. Once the thirties hit, no one could afford to load on the carbs, and she liked to save her guilty pleasures for martinis and wine.

  “I’m not using the whipped cream cheese,” Trevor said as he slathered butter onto his bagel. “I like butter, and I can use the extra fat since I still have some growing to do and I’ll probably play soccer later.”

  “Good for you.” Rachel tore a piece from her bagel. “Personally, I’m trying to stop growing.”

  “Good morning.” Bright as a sunflower, Remy came through the arch. Looking adorable in a white Coachella T tied off at the waist over a pair of blue denim jeans, she came to the table and leaned down to place a kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “Hi, Aunt Rachel. How’s it going?”

  “All good. Sit. Eat.” She pulled out the chair beside her. “Oh, and I want to see that kickin’ prom dress.”

  “It’s so gorgeous.” Remy scrolled through her phone as she sat down. “Thanks for loaning us the money.”

  “What?” Ariel stabbed at a cube of pineapple. “You hit Rachel up for money?”

  “Just forty bucks.”

  “The dress was discounted,” Remy explained. “I knew someone else would snatch it up if I didn’t.” She tipped her phone toward Rachel. “What do you think?”

  Rachel swooned, squeezing Remy’s arm. “Just heavenly. You will be the belle of the ball.”

  Ariel leaned toward the cell phone. Seeing the way the vibrant blue of the dress lit up Remy’s skin tone, Ariel had to agree. In the first photo, two of the crystals on the dress had caught the light, winking with a gleam almost as bright as Remy’s smile. “You look beautiful, my darling,” Ariel said, passing it down the table to Maisy.

  “Aw. So pretty.” Maisy cooed as if she were reassuring a kitten.

  “Oh my God! I know why they denied the card,” Cassie piped in, snatching up the bill. “It’s over the limit. That’s got to be it. See?” She held the bill toward Ariel, tapping it with one jagged fingernail. “See? You paid the minimum, two hundred dollars, and you were less than a hundred dollars away from the limit.”

  “Really?” Ariel took the bill from Cassie, but the print blurred, and she wasn’t going to fetch her reading glasses. She folded the bill and tucked it under her bowl. “Can we talk about this later?”

  “Can you keep the payments up-to-date so that we don’t get humiliated by salesclerks?” Cassie’s dark eyes pinned Ariel, stern as a warden.

  Remnants of fruit juice suddenly went sour in Ariel’s mouth as she held back the urge to blast her oldest daughter from here to Timbuktu. She didn’t like to let loose on her kids. Temper tantrums sucked up so much energy. But Cassie, with her condescending attitude and accusatory statements, pushed all the wrong buttons. Maybe it was the fact that Cassie had her father’s square nose and wild hair, always a reminder of the man who had squeezed Ariel dry of money and passion, then abandoned her with two kids and a mountain of bills. Ariel would never forgive that bastard. Never.

  “At least you got the dress.” Rachel’s calm voice smoothed over the edges of the confrontation. “Why don’t you model it for us, Remy?”

  “It’s still at the shop being altered,” Remy explained. “But I’m sure you’ll see it.”

  “And you got it from Stardust Dreams.” Having lost her appetite, Ariel took her bowl to the counter. “I’m glad you bought local. It’s got to be hard for a shop like that to make it.”

  “Absolutely,” Rachel said, turning the conversation to the two Timbergrove stores that had gone out of business last year.

  Times were tough all around, Ariel thought, thrusting the folded bill onto the kitchen counter, the t
welve-thousand-dollar debt burning a hole in her conscience. Crap. Somehow her expenses had crept up and toppled over the limit, and she no longer had Stosh to bail her out. While he’d been spending weekends here, he had thrown her two grand a month toward expenses. Two thousand awesome dollars. Stosh had that kind of money to throw around. Now it was hard to make ends meet without that stipend.

  When Cassie brought her plate to the sink, Ariel reached for a clean mug, busying herself with pouring another cup to avoid her bitchy daughter. But when she replaced the coffeepot and turned away, Cassie had cornered her once again.

  “So what’s the plan for paying that off, Mom?” Cassie’s voice was lower now, almost sympathetic. “I know most of the tutoring money goes toward the mortgage.”

  Raking a hand through her hair, Ariel lifted her head to face Cassie. “I’ve got an audition coming up this month,” she lied. “A couple of commercials would take care of that bill.”

  “If you get cast,” said Cassie, nineteen-year-old stick-in-the-mud. “There’s no guarantee.”

  “Thanks for peeing on my parade.” Ariel palmed the mug, trying to absorb some warmth. “When did you get so negative?”

  “I’m just realistic.” Cassie took the milk carton from the refrigerator, gave it a shake, and frowned. “Who put this back empty?”

  “I didn’t do it,” Trevor insisted, giving himself up.

  With a grunt, Cassie crushed the carton. When she went to pitch it into the recycle bin under the sink, she missed and gave a petulant groan. “Nothing works around here.”

  “Yah think? So count yourself lucky that you don’t have to live here anymore.” Ariel picked up the milk container and stuffed it into the trash. Cassie didn’t appreciate what she had going for her. She’d be getting a college degree and a chance to make a steady income for herself.

  “You could probably get a real job if you tried,” Cassie said as she dug the instant creamer out of the cabinet beside the stove. “It’s not like you haven’t had the chance. You should have taken that teaching job in West Green when you had the offer.”

  That was the least of Ariel’s regrets.

  “You could get a job like that.”

  “I make more tutoring the Gleetime kids.” Ariel took the creamer from her, and shook some of the white powder into her mug. “And I’m not the schoolmarm type.”

  “I get it. Because you’re forever young, right? Forty is the new thirty?”

  That cut a bit too close. “You’re just full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t you?” The girl was on fire, all right. “And by the way, I’m only thirty-eight. Not quite forty yet.”

  Cassie held her hands up in a stopping motion. “I’m just being honest. Come on, Mom. You know it’s time to grow up and take care of this family. It’s a miracle that something horrible hasn’t happened to us while you were out doing your thing, acting and dressing like you’re twenty instead of forty.” Cassie stirred her coffee slowly. Calculating. “Oh, sorry. I meant thirty-eight. Like that makes a difference.”

  Ariel sucked air in through her clenched teeth, staring at her oldest girl. Staring and seething. The high-and-mighty brat thought she knew everything, which made her all the more infuriating.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Thirty-eight, forty-eight . . . what’s the difference? After thirty you’re just staring down the barrel of a gun at wrinkles and a box of Depends.”

  Cassie flinched, ever so slightly. “I didn’t say that.”

  “In so many words, you did. And as long as we’re handing out advice, I’ve got a bit for you. Take the stick out of your ass and open your eyes to all the things I do to make everyone happy around here.

  “If you think you can do a better job raising these kids and keeping a roof over their head, then go right ahead. Be my guest.”

  “Whoa.” Cassie’s brown eyes grew round, all wide-eyed innocence. “I didn’t say that. I mean . . . you’re twisting my words.”

  “You got attitude, girl. That’s not a bad thing. But right now, you’re turning on the wrong person.”

  “You’re the one who didn’t pay the bill!”

  “Oh, are we back to that again?”

  Letting out a huff of air, Cassie looked away. “I’ve got to finish my laundry and get on the road. And homework, too. I’m meeting some people on campus for a project.”

  “Yeah. Don’t let me keep you from that.”

  Cassie stomped up the stairs, taking a bundle of tension with her. Damn, but that girl was a ball of twisted accusations and guilt.

  Taking a sip of lukewarm coffee, Ariel lingered in the kitchen and ticked through all the ways Cassie did not understand her. Yes, she still wanted to look good. Just because she had a few kids and forty was coming at her like a freight train did not mean she had to let it all go. All the modeling, acting and voice lessons, the years of paying her dues on television sets and in cheesy theater productions had to have some payback. Not to mention the workouts and diets, expensive cosmetics and deprivation. She still had a tight butt, killer abs, and a perky rack. Not bad for thirty-eight. And she would never leave the house in sweatpants or zebra leggings. That was who she was. And she was not going to let her snotty daughter shame her into being some granola-eating Madonna.

  She looked back at the bill, felt a sting of adrenaline at the hefty $12,000 figure, one of the few things she could read without her glasses.

  It was not supposed to turn out this way. She’d had it all: a family, a home, work she loved, and a man who loved and cared for her. He protected her. He put this roof over her head. Her darlin’ Oliver. She missed him every day.

  At least Ariel had restrained herself from blasting Cassie. Remy and Maisy hated confrontation. Those girls were gentle souls. Trevor didn’t mind it so much; he had that boy’s understanding of holding your ground and wrestling horns to protect your territory. The male-aggression component.

  A glance at the clock told her it was coming up on eleven and she was still lounging in her silk pajamas. She darted upstairs, slipped on some jeans, a tight black T, and a thin black cardigan with white polka dots. Quickly, she applied the basics of her makeup until her skin, eyes, and lips shone with a healthy glow. That was better. Just because she lived in the suburbs didn’t mean she had to look that way.

  Back downstairs at the table, Rachel had kept the conversation going with the story of a woman who always got her hair cut with her Chihuahua sitting in her lap. “She’s a nice lady, but that dog sure likes to talk. One day he yapped through the entire haircut.”

  “Can I bring my turtle in next time I get a haircut?” Trevor asked.

  “Uh, no thanks. Reptiles aren’t my thing.”

  Maisy’s dark eyes opened wide. “Can I bring my pet rhinoceros?”

  “Of courseros,” Rachel answered without missing a beat.

  There was a flash of light from the other side of the table, where Remy was photographing herself with her cell phone. She was holding a flat bagel up to her face, peering through the large hole.

  “Gimme that! I want to do it,” Trevor said.

  Remy handed him the bagel and scrolled over her phone. “I’m calling this one, ‘Bagel Monocle.’ ”

  “How about ‘I spy with my little eye’?” Maisy suggested.

  “I’m calling mine, ‘The bagel sees all,’ ” Trevor said.

  “And I need one with Aunt Rachel.” Remy leaned close to Rachel and snapped a photo, which she would post with a nice caption thanking Rachel for bringing breakfast. That was Remy, documenting her life on social media.

  “So, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Rachel said.

  “Bad news first. Let’s get the worst over with.” Ariel tore off a small piece of a salt bagel as her friend told her that KJ’s scholarship and place on the football team were in jeopardy.

  “That’s awful,” Remy said. “Poor KJ.”

  “But he’s such a good player,” Trevor pointed out. “He’s the best quarterback Timbergrove ever had.”

/>   “I know, Trev, but he’s had a lot of concussions, and now he can’t even practice for a while, until he gets better.”

  “That is a bum deal,” Ariel protested. “So they’re kicking him off?”

  “Hard to say.” Rachel shrugged. “I’m heading out to Bend this afternoon to talk and figure things out. He’s pretty broken-up about it.”

  Ariel put on a pouty face as she rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “I feel his pain. You’re a good mother to drive down there just to talk.”

  Rachel sighed. “What else can I do?”

  “I’m sure it’ll work out. Mark my words. Come this fall, we’ll be in the stadium at Green State, watching him play.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  “So what’s the good news?” Remy asked.

  Rachel cocked her head to one side, her smile returning. “Jared is being courted by a recruiter from Winchester. The man is coming to the Glee State Finals, and it’s Jared’s chance to shine. But he doesn’t have a solo. Do you think he’ll qualify for a duet in the competition?”

  “I’d say he has an excellent chance if he can get a partner,” Ariel said. “That’s the crux of the matter.” Jared was still so painfully shy about reaching out to people. Ariel had thought he might grow out of that, but the kid was still an introvert.

  “I know, I know,” Rachel agreed. “It’s a problem for him, without any of his friends in the class. And believe me, I think he told me about the recruiter in a moment of weakness, because my son tells me nothing. Did he mention it to you during his last voice lesson?” she asked Ariel.

  “Not a word,” Ariel said. “He hasn’t brought in new material to rehearse for quite a while. But . . . wow! This is a great opportunity. He’ll kick himself if he lets this go by.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m wondering if you might work on a number with him.” Rachel turned pleading eyes on Remy. “I know you’ve got your scholarship to Southern Oregon all sewn up. But you guys have worked together before, and there wouldn’t be any weirdness for Jared. God knows, you’re like brother and sister.”

  Remy’s brows rose as she considered the prospect. “That’d be fun. Except I’ve got my solo, and Siri and I are rehearsing ‘Kids’ for the duet audition.”